


Pass Me By

by miobambiino



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Presumed Dead, Slice of Life, though that's not a big part of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miobambiino/pseuds/miobambiino
Summary: 'As unpredictable as Tony was, they had come to be able to predict that he would do unexpected things.The Captain didn’t expect, however, for Tony to march past a swarm of SHIELD agents, shoulder between Sam and Clint, and punch him square in the face.'-Steve tries to ignore his feelings for Tony, but the man doesn't make it easy, especially when he keeps on doing the surprising things that makes Steve's heart feel like its about to beat out of his rib-cage





	Pass Me By

**Author's Note:**

> A bit like a 'five time plus one time' fic, wherein Tony surprises Steve unintentionally, except its four times, and there isn't a 'plus one time he didn't' bit, so, not really.

Tony was kind of an unpredictable guy.

Well, ‘kind of’ was an understatement. He was also, as Rhodey put it,  _really_ fucking weird.

When Steve first met the man, he was fooled by the charismatic demeanour he threw over all of their eyes; but after living with the guy for a few months and seeing his guard slowly lower down, he let his quirks show.

So as unpredictable as the guy was, they had come to be able to predict that he would do unexpected things.

The Captain didn’t expect, however, for Tony to march past a swarm of SHIELD agents, shoulder between Sam and Clint, and punch him square in the face.

“ _What the fuck, Cap?!_ ”

Steve stood stock still, blinking a few times and noting that his upper lip was now wet. Bringing his hand up he dabbed away the blood trickling from his nose.

“Mister Stark,” came Fury’s steady voice as he parted between the agents, making a quick gesture with his hand to dismiss them from the room.

“ _You!_ ” Tony accused, jabbing a finger towards Fury, who remained patient, “You said he was  _killed-!_ ”

“It was necessary, only myself, agent Romanoff and Barnes could know Captain Rogers’ status. We were tracing a  _serial killer_ ,” he addressed the whole team now, who – Nat and Bucky – who were in various stages of shock, relief, and anger.

“The only way Cap could get close enough is if the guy thought he was dead,” Bucky tried to explain.

“That makes no sense,” Bruce cut in, clearly frustrated but keeping a lid on it – unlike Tony, who was wide-eyed and practically seething, “why did he need to think Steve was dead, why not tell us?”

Fury exchanged a look between Barnes, when Natasha piped up.

“Because the killer was focused on us,” she explained, “A super-enhanced being, and a psychopath… he wanted us to  _suffer_. Remember the first real lead we got, it was right after he made Bruce hulk out,”

“He gets off on causing us emotional distress basically,” Bucky supplied, shrugging at the exasperated look from Steve. The soldier cast a look at Tony, who was breathing heavily through his nose.

“Essentially, yes,” Nat agreed, “so naturally, when he shot Steve-”

“Wait, that wasn’t part of this…this bullshit-lie, you were  _shot-?!_ ”

Steve held out his palm towards Tony, as if trying to soothe a wild animal, “Hey, it barely clipped me, but-”

“The psycho assumed he got him, so we rolled with it, staged the fake private-funeral, and the guy came out of hiding – he gets cocky when he gets the outcome he wants from us,”

“Ah,” Wanda said, much calmer than the others – she never read any of their thought without asking, she had enough control, but that didn’t stop her getting a feel for their emotions. Bucky hadn’t even been upset when he broke the news to them. She must have sensed it wasn’t quite the case, but she never mentioned it. “So that’s why you were ‘holding off’ telling the media, because you didn’t want to have to go through the press,”

“Exactly,” Bucky huffed, “didn’t wanna deal with that shit,”

“Did you not trust us to know?” Thor asked, his normal jubilant tone subdued. Steve deflated, and looked at the faces of his team.

Wanda was the least shaken by the ordeal, but the tight purse of her lips indicated her displeasure at putting her friends, her family, through such pain. Sam had accepted Steve back with open arms, forgiving him instantly. Clint understood the need to do what they did, but the tension in his shoulders read that he wasn’t happy about it. Thor had gripped him in a bear-hug, but seemed put-out by the fact they were left in the dark about Steve’s ‘murder’. Bruce was mad, felt hurt, but was focusing most of his efforts on calming Tony down, as was Rhodey.

Tony, aside from decking the guy, was shaking with anger; eyes glossed over and knuckles white.

“The guy needed to see us – the team – genuinely hurt, to believe it,” Nat said gently, “otherwise he’d never of bought it, never would have poked his head up from the sand and gave us the chance we needed – a killer would still be on the streets if we didn’t… another body could have been on our hands,”

That seemed to ease the stiffness from the others, and they came forward to check their leader over, Thor pulling him into a much warmer embrace, followed by Sam, Clint, and Bruce.

Wanda hung back with Tony, casting a concerned look at the dishevelled brunette, who didn’t look too comforted.

Later, Tony sat cross-legged on the conference table, staring out at the sky-line from the Helicarrier. The room was empty save the genius, who decided to skip out on the debriefings. No one had tried to stop him. He stayed in the room, sat in the dark, not bothering to turn on the lights. He wanted to look out at the stars.

“Thought I’d find you here,”

Tony bristled at the new voice, shifting in his spot.

Steve sighed, stepping further into the room until he was leant against the table, Tony pointedly not looking at him.

“Everyone else seems to have forgiven me now,” Steve sighed, twiddling his fingers together, casting a cautious look at the other man.

Tony wet his lips, and cleared the lump in his throat with a small cough before speaking.

“You… you let me think you were  _dead_ , Steve, I…”

“I know, Tony, and I’m  _sorry_ , but-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tony spoke barely above a whisper, and Steve’s heart clenched painfully.

“I wanted to, Tony,  _God_ … I wanted you to know so badly but…”

“But what?” Tony snapped, causing Steve to flinch inwardly.

“They, they said it needed to be genuine-”

“But why not tell me, Steve, just… God, I sound so fucking  _selfish_ but, why,  _why_ couldn’t you tell  _me-?_ ”

“Because! Because… they,” he rubbed a hand over his face, flustered, before sighing in defeat. “Because they said you’d give the most genuine and… and satisfying reaction… for the killer. That way, he was more likely to come out to gloat… and then we’d have a shot at getting the guy, which we did-!”

Tony had gone stock still, eyes wide and sad.

“You, uh… you  _know?_ ” he asked incredulously, though his voice was quiet.

Steve knew the way Tony felt about him. Hell, Natasha and Fury knew too; Steve had only found that out when the director himself insisted Tony not know the truth, since they were bound to get a reaction from him Nabokov – the killer – wanted.

Nabokov had been an agent inside of SHIELD, had access to security footage from every facility, including any places the team chose to grieve. SHIELD had let him watch, lured him out of the shadows just to gloat.

It was because they knew how Tony felt that it was such a shock when he ploughed a fist into the Captain’s nose.

It tore Steve apart to do this to his friend, his best friend. But it was necessary.

Steve wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself that Tony’s laugh sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach, blossoming warmth into his bones. God, he was such a coward. Letting Tony think that… that he didn’t feel the same damn way. But he just wasn’t  _ready_.

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice raw and painful, “I know, Tony,”

With that, Tony nodded curtly, slid off the table, and left.

Steve let him, self-loathing oozing into his gut as he let the man he  ~~loved~~ cared for walk away.

* * *

A month later, and Tony and Steve were back to talking as usual. Sometimes Tony joked about his feelings for Steve, brushed them off as nothing more than physical attraction. Really, its an appreciation for the science behind the serum, not the meat-head piloting it, he’d said, cackling like a madman at Steve’s mock-offended expression.

They both knew it wasn’t true, and they both decidedly didn’t mention it.

“What the hell does  _agitare_ mean?” Clint asked, squinting at the cook-book lead out in front of him. It was written in Italian, which Clint claimed was the only way to cook authentic Italian food.

Problem was he didn’t know any Italian that wasn’t written on the menu of an Italian restaurant, limiting his knowledge to types of pasta, cheese, and tomatoes.

“It means stir, dumbass,”

“Hey! I’m trying to learn, don’t be so fuckin’ condescending,” Clint chastised, pointing a wooden spoon in Tony’s direction accusingly, flicking the engineer with tomato juice.

“I mean,” the brunette replied, locking his tablet and directing his attention to the archer, who was clad in a children’s chef hat and apron, making him look twice as ridiculous as usual. “Why don’t you just get me to read it for you, instead of asking me every other second what words mean?”

Clint considered him for a moment, before nodding.

“Okay, you’re up.”

He tossed the book over to Tony, ignoring the frustrated grunt from Bruce as the book landed in the middle of his notes, scattering them across the island in the middle of the kitchen where most of the team currently sat.

Steve walked in, towel slung over his shoulders from the quick shower he took after his session in the gym with Nat and Sam, rubbing it absently against the back of his head where his wet hair dripped onto the back of his white t-shirt.

“What’s the second row say?” Clint asked, stirring the pot in front of him.

“ _Schiacciare l’aglio e il basilico in una pasta e aggiungere alle cipolle_ ,”

“In English, asshole,”

Tony grinned devilishly, before reading out the instructions to Clint.

Steve watched Tony carefully, trying not to seem too awed by the other man speaking beautifully in flawless Italian. Steve had known Maria was Italian, but he hadn’t been aware that much had passed on to Tony. He supposed he should have seen it; his dark, full hair, his tanned complexion, the way spoke with his hands so passionately, the way his body moved so fluidly, seductively, making Steve’s mouth dry and his palms sweaty…

Okay, so maybe not all of that was down to Tony being half Italian, and more to do with the restless thumping Steve’s heart did when he locked eyed with the brunette.

Still not ready to confront that.

“How long you been able to speak Italian anyway, man?” Clint ventured, peeling cloves of garlic and crushing them under the blade of a knife.

“Real question is how long have I been able to speak English, birdbrain,”

That earned a few raised eyebrows, and Nat’s attention from where she sat between Bruce and now Steve.

“Italian is your mother-tongue?” She asked curiously, setting her mug of green tea down on the surface.

“Yeah – well, I was speaking English pretty soon after I begun to speak Italian, but when I was born my Mom, she wanted privacy, so we stayed with her family in Italy most of the year,” he shrugged, reading off the next line of the book to Clint, who threw a thumbs-up back at him. “They all spoke it, so guess I just picked it up first,”

Steve had been living under the same roof as the other man for some time now, and in all of his unpredictable quirks and mannerisms, he still found himself being surprised by the genius in ways he had not before even considered.

“What’s Italian for ‘I need to go get some garlic bread’?” Clint asked plainly.

“ _Devo andare a prendere un po 'di pane di aglio_ ,” Tony said automatically, not looking up from the page of scribbles Bruce had slid over to him. Not to check for any mistakes, no, just to admire it, as Bruce said.

“Excellent,” Nat said without missing a beat, “Get a few, and some cheesy garlic bread while you’re at it,”

Tony huffed irritably, though it lacked any real heat, as Clint chucked to himself.

Tony got up, making sure to push his stool under the table with as much huffing as possible. He stopped in the doorway, and Steve looked up from his sketchbook, noting the expectant look from the brunette.

“You’re coming with me,”

“I am?”

Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes and beckoning Steve over again. “ _Obviously_ ,”

“It’s really not that obvious,” The blonde sighed, though he was already following Tony out of the kitchen.

* * *

They got to the store nearly twenty minutes after they’d originally set off, which didn’t seem that odd, unless you considered the fact the store they most frequently used was a five-minute walk away from the tower.

They’d taken a complete detour, instead of going the most direct way, Tony had lead them down a bunch of side streets, just to end up at the end of the road the store sat on, rather than just walk down said road to get there.

Steve didn’t really mention it – drawing up the conclusion that Tony had thought better they keep to side streets to avoid too much attention. Yet, when they were in the store, Tony made to move to pull up the hood of his jacket or keep his head down; in fact, he even knelt down and spoke to a few kids shopping with their parents, discretely paying for their groceries just to ease some of the tension the parents seemed to carry in their shoulders.

Money wasn’t a problem for Tony, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand the problems it made for other people, so, he did things like that fairly often, though always under the radar.

When they left the store, Steve started to turn right, to head down the main street this time round rather than waste a quarter of an hour trailing through dingy alleyways. Steve stopped, however, when he didn’t see Tony walking beside him.

Turning around, Tony was stood awkwardly, body tilted to the left, as if willing Steve to choose the long way round again.

“Tony, what are you doing?” Steve asked slowly, eyes flicking around the street for any signs of danger.

Tony tried to feign nonchalance, rubbing his hand through his messy hair – it was starting to curl at the nape of his neck, Steve noted absently.

“Just, I don’t know… side streets are more…” Tony waved a hand round, as if trying to will an excuse to himself, “… _picturesque?_ ”

Steve snorted, before walking up the mainstreet, despite Tony’s unusual behaviour.

Like Steve had said and thought many times before, Tony was weird guy, so it really didn’t send any red lights flashing off in his mind.

Begrudgingly, Tony followed after him.

A way down the street Steve noted Tony almost cringe – almost  _flinch_ – by his side.

“What the-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Steve had turned to look at whatever Tony was staring at, and he felt realisation wash over him.

Tony eyed him, a stern expression over his face, willing Steve to keep his mouth shut.

Steve’s eyes glistened, and his lip wavered, trying to push down a smile.

“Don’t,”

“Oh, my God,”

“I said  _don’t_ , asshole-!”

“You’re scared of them, aren’t you?”

“ _No!_ ”

Steve was doubling over now, full belly-laughs rippling through him, as he wheezed around laughter. He swore he even felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, and was earning a fair share of bemused looks from onlookers making their way down the street.

“Shut up, Steve-!” Tony grit out, though he had an air of nervousness around him, smothering most of his frustration.

“ _Clowns?_  Really,” Steve threw his head back laughing, clapping Tony on the shoulder, sending a jolt through the other man.

Tony couldn’t help but crack a smile, but the unease from the performers outside a large toy-store remained settled.

A group of performers – of perhaps six or so clowns – were taking pictures with families, promoting some new product Steve guessed. There wasn’t even anything particularly creepy about any of them, all jolly smiles and silly tricks.

Yet the invincible Iron Man had gone wildly out of his way just so he didn’t have to walk past them.

Oh God, Steve didn’t think he’d ever laughed this hard.

“You’re such a dick, Rogers!”

“ _Clowns_ , Tony,  _Clowns_ – look! That kid just pushed one over-!”

As proof to his claim, a little girl had nudged one of the clowns, who fell backwards dramatically, knocking into another clown, who knocked into another and so on.

And here was Tony, practically petrified by them.

“What sane person likes clowns, Steve? Clowns – imagine waking up in the middle of the night and seeing that-!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve wheezed, trying to pull himself together, but he couldn’t wipe off the amused smile from his face if he tried. “Look, just, wander over there – I’ll be there, don’t worry – and just, try not to freak out, its just people in costumes, I mean, c’mon, shellhead-”

“Fine, fine!” the brunette grumbled, begrudgingly following Steve over the edge of a small crowd watching the antics of the group.

Steve wished he could say he was a good friend to Tony when they wandered over. Though he didn’t think any force on Earth would have stopped him practically collapsing in fits of laughter when a clown came up from beside them, honking a horn playfully, and the prompt shriek Tony let out from the top of his lungs, clawing at Steve’s arm.

Laughing so hard it hurt, Steve tried to keep up with Tony, who was walking as fast as possible without it being called running away back towards the safety of their tower.

* * *

It had been a rough couple of days.

Infiltrating a Hyrda research base never was a picnic, especially since unlike some of their other foes – namely AIM, Hydra seemed to actually learn from their mistakes.

They took a hit, got shaken up, and were currently tucked into a tiny outpost waiting for the rescue crew. Rain drummed against the old window frames of the building which poke out between a few trees in the middle of nowhere, branches swaying and tapping against the flat rooftop, sheets of water cascading down the walls outside.

Steve had lit a fire, knowing they’d be there for a good while longer because of the storm messing up tracking technology, even my SHIELD’s standard. It was a pretty nasty storm after all. The team crowded round the small furnace, faces illuminated in the warm glow, despite feeling cold and bitter on the inside.

They’d barely scraped out of this one. Tensions were high, and the fight had left most of them feeling haunted by their own memories; none of them mentioned how similar it was to when Wanda put them under her spell. Besides, judging by the way she tucked herself into the corner, she was being eaten up by enough guilt already.

Natasha hadn’t made one comment since the battle finished, absorbed completely in her own thoughts.

Clint tried to approach her, but sighed and slumped back when he was clearly getting nowhere with her here. She didn’t feel safe; she wanted – she needed – to go home.

“She normally likes to listen to songs n’stuff,” Bucky had told Steve, Sam, and Rhodey, who were all rubbing their hands in front of the fire.

“She not responding at all?” Sam asked warily, eyeing his friend from where he sat next to Tony.

“Give her time,” was all Clint said, before going back to idly fiddling with his arrow-heads.

Bruce, Vision and Thor hadn’t come with them this time – it hadn’t seemed necessary at the time. They were almost relieved, though, that the Hulk hadn’t come into contact with the empath like they all had.

Steve watched over Nat with concern written all over his face, before noting a silent exchange between Rhodey and Tony at the corner of his eye.

Rhodey seemed to be urging Tony, who was violently shaking his head in a negative motion. Between his hands, Steve noted Rhodes had picked up the guitar that had been mounted on the wall of the bunker above the stove, tightening the strings.

“C’mon, man,” he heard the Colonel murmur, “for her, yeah?”

Tony seemed to consider this, before his shoulders sagged in defeat.

After a few moments, the pair had shuffled closer to Nat, who made no indication she even knew they were there.

And that’s when Rhodey began to play.

It was a familiar tune, Steve noted, simple and repetitive, yet all the while timeless. Though the guitar wasn’t exactly in the best of shapes, Rhodes played beautifully, his worn fingertips strumming softly against the strings, evoking a tender rendition of the song.

Nat’s body seemed to have gone slightly looser, the vice-like grip she had round her own knees reducing by the slightest amount.

Tony breathed, shifted in his spot next to Natasha, and began to sing. The other’s around them perked up, surprised smiles playing on their faces as the brunette sung, accompanied by the gentle strums of the guitar.

_“She’s got a smile it seems to me_  
Reminds me of childhood memories  
Where everything  
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky,”

Tony’s voice was faintly feminine, yet rather striking. Without even needed to belt it out, the sound of his voice sent a wave of impact through the room. Steve stared, awed, completely unaware that Nat was starting to come out of her shell, eyes trained on Rhodey’s fingers running down the strings.

_“Now and then when I see her face_  
She takes me away to that special place  
And if I’d stare too long  
I’d probably break down and cry,”

Clint started to hum along – not being the greatest of singers, but good enough to hold a steady tune. Sam started to bob his head, murmuring the words softly.

_“Oh, oh, oh_  
Sweet child o’ mine  
Oh, oh, oh, oh  
Sweet love of mine,”

Steve vaguely picked up on Wanda and Bucky chiming in for the chorus, but Tony… God, he could barely breathe at the sound of the man’s voice; a soothing blanket that fell over the room, sending warmth bubbling up his insides and prickles of cold along his spine.

_“She’s got eyes of the bluest skies_  
As if they thought of rain  
I hate to look into those eyes  
And see an ounce of pain  
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place  
Where as a child I’d hide  
And pray for the thunder  
And the rain  
To quietly pass me by”

Natasha was looking up now, smiling. Then, gingerly, she sang along with Tony, who held her hand as she looked gratefully on at Rhodey. The man didn’t look up from his playing, but his lips quirked upwards; he knew. They sung together:

_“Oh, oh, oh_  
Sweet child o’ mine  
Oh, oh, oh, oh  
Sweet love of mine,”

* * *

“You know,” Steve said, arms folded across his broad chest currently stretching out a grey workout shirt, chin tipped downwards, “for a guy who’s been in the war and fights aliens and…” he sighed, cautioning a look at Tony, who was sat on the kitchen worktop.

The brunette was picking slices of pizza from the discarded takeout box from their meal since getting back home in one piece; the others were in various states of passed-out in the living room, save for himself and Steve.

“For a guy like me, who’s done the things I’ve done, I can be such a damn coward.”

Tony blinked, started by the sudden turn in conversation.

Moments ago, it had been just playful banter – nothing too complex or witty, they were all too tired for that.

“Wha-? Cap… you feeling alright? Helmet not squeezing your brain too much?”

“No, Tony,” Steve huffed around a smile, “I mean, I haven’t been totally honest with you,”

Tony’s expression went blank, an air of hurt flashing over his features, before Steve backtracked.

“Not – uh, not like that, God… I just mean, I’ve been too afraid to admit to you that I…” he trailed off, suddenly finding his mouth going dry and hands becoming clammy. “So, uh, you like me, right–? Wait,  _shit_ , that makes me sound like such a jerk, shit, sorry-”

Steve fumbled for the right words, already seemingly offending Tony twice already. Fuck, he was so shit at this.

“What I mean, is that, when I…when I knew how you felt – about me – I was scared because-”

“Me liking you  _scared you_ -?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised and playful attitude completely lost.

“No! Well, in a way – but not bad!” Steve tried, running a hand through his hair in frustration, looking helplessly at Tony who seemed to only be getting more offended by this rather patchwork ‘confession’.

“So, what? You knew I liked you and, and pretended not to know because it freaked you out – but then you were okay using it as some kind of  _bait_ -?!” Tony was growing hostile now, walls coming up to mask any hurt he was feeling.

“You know, Rogers, if this is some backward-ass way of apologising, just drop it, okay? We were fine! Why did you have to bring it up, like I’m not fucking embarrassed about it? Get over yourself, Jesus, _I’m over you_ - _!_ ”

“Wait – you’re over me?”

Steve was quiet now, the previous bubbling excitement and nerves tangled together dissipating, replaced with a cold wash of dread.

That seemed to give Tony some pause. The genius’ eyes were glassed over, wide and vulnerable. And Steve knew Tony was trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

“Yes,” Tony said after a while, voice shaken and nit sounding too convinced.

“You really mean that?” Steve tried again, edging closer to Tony, cornering him on the kitchen surface.

Tony’s eyes darted to the door, but then Steve was right there, face inches away from his own, and staring him down, looking for any trace of a lie. Steve was stood between Tony’s legs now, which hung motionless over the edge of the counter. His neck was tilted back slightly, looking up to meet the Captain’s startlingly blue eyes, which flicked over the genius’ face, taking it all in.

Tony felt a huff of air from Steve brush over him, disturbing a lock of dark hair which fell over his eyes. Steve’s hand came up to the side of his face, brushing the hair away, but stayed hovering over his cheek.

Tony swallowed hard, before replying hoarsely.

“ _No_ ,”

Steve pulled Tony’s face towards his own, pressing their lips together harshly. The Captain ran his hands down Tony’s body, trailing from his cheeks to his hips, using them to pull the other man flush up against him; Tony moaned, running his hands over the expanse of Steve’s shoulders, letting the larger man push him back against the surface, climbing over him and deepening the kiss.

Tony wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, flicking his tongue over the man’s bottom lip, feeling heat pool in his belly and his insides go gooey.

After a few moments, Steve wound his arms under Tony, hauling them both up and marching out of the kitchen.

“The elevator is that way-” Tony breathed around kisses, pointing to the opposite direction in which they were headed.

“ _Too far_ ,” Steve practically growled, hoisting Tony up with one arm under his ass and the other opening the door to a small study space they rarely used.

Inside it was dark, filled with a few bookshelves, but namely a large sofa some of them occasionally used to read on.

Steve pulled the door almost shut, pushing Tony back against it closing it all the way, hands roaming over the smaller man’s body.

“FRIDAY, do –  _fuck, Steve_  – do your thing,”

Wordlessly, FRIDAY ensured the door was locked and turned the lights up a fraction, just enough to see – which Tony was hugely thankful for, since after Steve set him down on the sofa, he pulled his shift off to reveal his naked torso.

The super-soldier crawled up Tony’s body, gripping him by the hips and rolling down, enticing a moan from the smaller man. Steve’s face was flushed red, his brow furrowed as Tony mouthed at his neck.

Steve suddenly stopped, pupil’s blown wide with lust, yet unease settled behind them.

“Wait, Tony,”

“What, no, no, no… why are you stopping?”

“Tony,” Steve urged, smiling despite himself, before sighing. “I like you, I have feelings for-”

“Steve – I know,” the other man smiled, “I mean, knowing you, I’d be a little concerned if you didn’t,”

Steve suddenly became acutely aware that they were both extremely naked, wrapped up in each other’s bodies – and at some point had asked FRIDAY to turn on the fireplace (looking back, it may have been a bit over-kill on the romance).

“Right, uh, I wasn’t quite sure if you caught the memo,” Steve said, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

Tony looked up at him through his lashes, half of his face illuminated by the low ebb of the fireplace opposite them. He was beautiful – this close Steve noted the freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose, the strands of grey hairs growing from his temples, each individual lash that framed his dark eyes.

“I got it, Steve,” he smiled, before pulling Steve back down to meet his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! Prompts for avengers fics are still open (check out my tumblr, miobambiino) ~


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